


Drabbles

by fretful_butterfly



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fretful_butterfly/pseuds/fretful_butterfly
Summary: Short stories with different pairings. Mostly Newgan.





	1. Bumpy Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if I wanted them to be female or just crossdress for an undercover mission so interpretation is up to the reader but some stories will have implications of either.

Ruth cupped her cheek, kissing the corporal chastely on her lips. Petra sighed, bringing her commanding officer in as close as she should. 

Another bump in the road, and the two lost their balance, fumbling into each other. 

Ruth unwillingly pulled away, "I got the strangest feeling someone doesn't want us to continue."

Petra watched as the apple she had kept at her side rolled under the truck. "That ruddy driver...I was plannin' on eatin' that." She grumbled. "It's a long way back to our 'ome sweet 'ome."

"I'll take you to a nice restaurant after this." Ruth looked at her watch, "Maybe even a picture."

"We'll 'ave enough time?"

"If I know Klink, and I do, that little outing in town isn't going to last all night." 

Petra chuckled, intertwining her arm with Ruth's. 


	2. Overheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be part of it's own series in this book.

Hilda was leaving for the night. She filed all the important papers and made sure everything on her desk looked neat before reaching for her coat. 

"I'm leaving now Herr Kommandant, the papers are all in order." She spoke through the door, not wanting to bother with usual formalities. She had been asked to stay overtime to help the colonel with some paperwork that was almost due. All she wanted right now was to be in her warm bed, curled up under the covers.

"Yes, danke Fräulein. Auf Wiedersehen." The Kommandant replied halfheartedly, sounding tired himself. 

Hilda pulled on her coat and closed the door to the Kommandantur. She stepped out, ready to say her farewell to Sergeant Schlutz like she did every night. She was surprised that she didn't find him, meaning he was off duty and it was well past midnight. Though she was tired, Hilda wanted to stretch her legs and she figured a quick walk wouldn't hurt. The prisoners were asleep, possibly some of the guards were as well so it would be quiet enough.

Hilda hadn't been walking that long, just enough for her mind to begin to clear after the hectic day. She decided to be mischievous and walk closer to the barracks. She didn't think the scheming colonel would be awake at these hours (you needed a lot of rest come up with the over-the-top plans he had). But on the off chance he was awake, he would be able to see her better from those dismal windows and maybe they could recreate that little meeting in the Kommandant's car. 

For a moment, Hilda thought she heard something but she wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't until the sound was closer and suddenly all too familiar that she realized just what she listening to.

It was coming from the colonel's office- the window was slightly open.

"Peter," Someone moaned and she knew the voice immediately, "just like that." It was Hogan. 

"Mm...best idea you've had in a while, Robert." Newkirk? Hogan and Newkirk...

Her breath caught in her throat. Hilda tried to make sense of what she was hearing but it was no use. The pieces connected, that wasn't the issue but she didn't know how to react. A part of her was curious and another wanted to get away as soon as possible. She opted for the latter. Before she could think any further, Hilda made a brisk getaway and returned to the Kommandantur where a car and driver were waiting. She got in the backseat and told the man to drive, trying to remain casual. All through the drive home she thought about what she just heard and more pressingly, how was she going to face the two men in the morning. 


	3. Overheard

Apparently luck was not in her favor today as not an hour after she arrived, Hogan strolled into the Kommandanteur. 

"Good morning!" He called cheerfully, smiling when the blonde looked up at him. He inched his way behind her desk and greeted her with a kiss. Was it the same kiss Newkirk had received, she wondered? The thought came over her and she fought to press it down. Her heart was beating entirely too fast and Hogan was close enough that she hoped he couldn't hear. 

"Anything I should know about?" He asked casually, gazing down at her. She could smell the slightest hint of cigarette that was so explicitly Newkirk on his jacket it almost acted like conformation that what happened last night was real and she wasn't jumping to conclusions. 

Hilda kept a watchful eye on him, "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Colonel," She smiled coyly. Despite the new challenge, she tried to enjoy the little time she had with Colonel Hogan. Really, the only thing that made her job worthwhile were these fleeting moments when he'd come in bargaining for information. There were a few other benefits as well, speaking of.

"What if I said the words: perfume, chocolate, and nylons?" She felt his hand move down to her waist as his lips found their way around the back of her neck. Hm, she could always use more provisions, it was better than going to the shops. Better for her at least, not so much for the officers. 

"When?" 

"No later than this week." He replied after another kiss to her neck.

"Kommadant Klink said he would be expecting someone tomorrow, a General Trost." 

"Uh huh...Anything else?" He replied, sounding more preoccupied with what his mouth was doing than what he actually came in for. Hogan amazed her at times. Even after whatever he happened to be doing the night before, he still pounced on her like a desperate prisoner, as if she was the first person he touched in years. 

Hilda shook her head before meeting his eyes again. As he left she hoped she wasn't obvious, knowing how skillful Hogan was at reading people.

In the afternoon, while the Kommandant was coincidentally in the middle of a phone call, Lebeau came in with a feather duster in hand. He smiled at her, giving a quick nod before he started cleaning idly. Hilda payed no mind, even when he stopped and put his ear against the door to the Klink's office.

Someone else barged in a few minutes later. Hilda shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, not even the guards came in and out of here quite as often as the prisoners.

"You started on those windows yet?" The new voice spoke. Hilda didn't need to look to know who it was.

Maybe she should've called in sick today. 

Lebeau shushed him.

"Well I just wanted to know if you heard anything interesting yet." Newkirk said, quieter now. 

"I can't hear if you're talking!" He whisper yelled.

"Alright, alright." Newkrik muttered under his breath, "Not my fault Carter ruined the coffee pot." Newkirk snatched up the feather duster from Lebeau and started wandering around, cleaning half-heartedly. 

Hilda wasn't sure why but she felt more tense around Newkirk than with Hogan. She didn't interact with the Englander as much so that was probably why. Even before last night, she knew the two were close. That was another reason to be concerned, especially with the new information she had. Now, Hilda wasn't sure if she was in the way. But she recalled when Newkirk had walked in on her and Colonel Hogan kissing (twice), he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he offered to take his place. Whether that remark had been in jest or not, Hilda really needed to stop thinking about it with Newkirk only a few feet away. Besides, if she did interfere, Hogan would have stopped approaching her the way he does.

But there were other things to consider. Hilda knew of the Colonel's various romantic endeavors. She didn't mind though, it wasn't as if what she and Hogan had was anything more than a few minutes of indulgence, not that that was necessarily a bad thing. Hilda thinks if they ever had something different (which she firmly doubted), she wouldn't mind if she didn't have the Colonel all to herself.

But that was something for another day because it seems the corporal had gotten tired of dusting and decided to engage Hilda in polite conversation. He sauntered his way to her desk.

"Wie geht's, love?" Newkirk smiled warmly, blue eyes gleaming.

This was going to be a long day, Hilda thought as she greeted him.


	4. Overheard

Newkirk took her hand in his, brushing his thumb against her skin while they talked. He hadn't done anything more than that and she didn't either. They flirted playfully, trying to understand each other better. They hadn't even noticed when Lebeau left the room. It wasn't until a while later they were broken out of their spell.

Hogan had came in quietly and took in the sight before him with an amused smirk. Newkirk, on Hilda's desk, practically draped over the fine dark wood, looked positively smitten. Hilda's expression was no different. Their hands were intertwined and their faces only inches apart. Hogan crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the wall near the door. "I hope I'm not interrupting you kids." He said, his tone purposely betraying his words. 

Newkirk sprung up, letting go of her hand. "Sir?" He said, trying his best to not look guilty. "Just uh- doing a bit of spring cleaning, sir." He looked around for the duster and found it all the way at the other side of the room. "Oh! That's where it'd gone off to!" He walked across the room and took it in hand, spinning it around. He propped his hand up on the desk, turning to her, "Silly me for thinking you'd hidden it from me, Hilda." He exaggerated every word and finally bit his lip, giving her a silent 'sorry I got you into this' look. 

"Well, I think your work is done here, Corporal. I'm sure the Fräulein is very busy." Hogan looked at him expectantly, hoping he would get the hint. They did have other things to do, being a prisoner wasn't all fun and games.

"Actually, I was just getting started." Newkirk replied, not being able to help himself.

Hogan rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the wrist. He turned to Hilda, "I'm taking him away now. He won't bother you anymore." Hogan was making a show of it, he hadn't even grabbed him roughly. And did Hogan really think she wouldn't notice him put his hand on Newkirk's waist?

"See you soon Liebling." Newkirk called over his shoulder as he was being escorted out of the Kommandantur. 

That night, Hilda returned home. She dressed in her night gown and made herself a cup of coffee. Now she laid in bed, reading a book and taking sips of the warm drink. During nights like these, when it was especially cold, she often thought about having the Colonel over, treating him to a decent meal, and talking in the lounge room for hours until he had to go. Maybe if they were careful, he could stay the night. Hilda touched the soft but cold covers next to her and thought of how wonderful it would be to have the Colonel underneath them.

Then she recalled the conversation she had with Newkirk this morning. She had been a little nervous but in his inviting presence, she couldn't stay that way for long. Newkirk was charming and amusing in his wit but there was something courteous and kind about him too. He spoke to her in her language when he could and while he was still a novice, she complimented him and praised how quickly he learned. 

The little ordeal they had with Hogan was mildly entertaining and she was glad it didn't escalate into anything more than that. She was still confused about their feelings as well as her own. But while they were interested in her and she was interested in them, there was no reason they couldn't play along. 

Hilda closed her book and left the empty cup on the nightstand. She turned off the lamp and settled into bed, wondering what the new day will bring.


	5. Tenderly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hogan/Klink. Tbc.

It was a disaster, what they had started, a perfect disaster. Hogan had willingly let it get out of his hands but he craved it too much to put a stop to it all together. 

Hogan had needed this, some form of support that didn't come from his men. He wanted to be spoken to with gentle words and touched tenderly. He practically ached for it. It made him enraptured and sick just to think of it.

He kept these unwanted feelings buried deep but when it got to the breaking point, he'd try his damndest to fight it until he'd lose (as he saw it) and collapse into Wilhelm's lap. He hated himself for it but it was that much sweeter when the colonel would gently rub is back, whisper affectionate words to him, and caress him so tenderly Hogan would forget he was supposed to hate him.

It was strange how something inspired from the innocent days of childhood could be corrupted by time and circumstance. Their positions, (Hogan sitting in his lap, ankles locked and Wilhelm ever attentive in his hold) however chaste in nature and intention were drenched in sin, made all the more illicit by who they were and what occurred around them. But they reveled in their wrongness because they both needed it. Not like before when their meetings were mostly composed of wary hands and frightened egos. Oh, there was still guilt and shame, insurmountable amounts laying heavy inside, aching and twisting. Like chains reminding them not to get careless, reminding them of the consequences of trying to find peace in the chaos of war.


	6. Basic Black Again?

"Basic black again?" Hogan asked, trying to swallow the hopefulness in his voice.

"It seemed like the popular favorite."

"I guess that means you noticed Carter wasn't the only one who was admiring your hem work." 

"You weren't doing a very good job of hiding it. Sir."

"That was my intention." His hands lingered around his hips and Hogan voiced his discovery, "It's a tight fit." 

"But easy enough to move in or out of." Newkirk replied, paying no mind to the wandering hands, or at least looking like it. He gazed at the Colonel, big blue eyes as bold as ever. "I tailored it just... right." 

At the same time, ignoring the slightest twitch in his trousers, Hogan passed the edge of the dress and brushed his fingertips along his upper thigh. "Pantyhose too?" 

"I er borrowed them from Helga. She won't miss 'em sir. And they do make a lovely fit."

"What next, panties?" 

Newkirk's brows furrowed, "Colonel, what kind of a man do you think I am?" He paused, "Knickers on the other hand-"

"Newkirk, I was joking."

"Well, everyone seemed to like the idea of me playing dress up so I thought why not take it a step further."

"You didn't." Hogan said, still in disbelief. 

"Would you like to find out for yourself? I'll give you a little hint: they're lace and in your favorite color."

After that courteous invitation, how could Hogan refuse?


	7. Mrs. Chitterly's Lovers

Mrs. Chitterly told them, almost reassuringly, that it was hardly worth having them come in and out of their quarters each time she chose to kiss one or the other. She really liked them both. Crittendon was the spiting image of her husband but that didn't steer her interest away from him. Crittendon had his faults but she found him endearing nonetheless, quite adorable even. Then there was Hogan, who she started to like more despite his stubbornness. They'd never go for it, of course. She could almost picture them fumbling over each other, what a sight they would be. Not unlike how they were now. 

"My, you have been here for too long, Colonel." She could tell by Hogan's expression that he was surprised, maybe the slightest bit intimidated, at her boldness. "There's a lock on that door, isn't there?" She smirked up at him before bringing the glass of wine to her lips.

Crittendon poured himself another glass full, hoping the drink would calm his nerves, the entire discussion was making him flustered. Leslie took the cup away from him and spoke gently, "If you keep that up, you won't know what to do with yourself, darling."

"Oh, don't worry, I'll have plenty to do. I hear there's a rousing game of blackjack in the barracks. You two can settle this amongst yourselves and I'll be-"

"You're not leaving?"

"I'm not? But weren't you and Hogan just about- well I don't want to be in the way of things."

Leslie leaned on the arm of the sofa, palm pressed to her temple. "You two have absolutely no imagination."

"Oh, I have plenty imagination, I'm just not desperate. No offense, Crittendon."

"Quite alright, Hogan." He stammered, taking the drink back in hand.

"I wasn't alluding to that." 

"Then what? What am I supposed to do while you two are busy?" 

"I'm sure there's something that clever mind of yours will come up with."


	8. Requests

Was wondering if there's anything someone would like to request, a pairing or specific plot?


End file.
